Word: breathings
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...campus’s most venerable Prius owner is former University President Derek C. Bok, the political scientist who served a second stint in Mass. Hall last year on an interim basis. He replaced economist Lawrence H. Summers, whose controversial leadership style was occasionally mentioned in the same breath as his choice of wheels—a black chauffeured Lincoln Town Car. His successor, Drew G. Faust, owns a Honda Accord, though she says she prefers to walk to work...
...broke Mr. Dibbell’s heart in 10th grade. Unfortunately for the author, while his precious “digital l00t” may in fact have real market value, all the gold doubloon clipart in the world can’t fix his social deficiencies or bad breath. On the plus side, a book about fake ambitions, repressed fantasies and the inability to function in the real world probably will sell great over at MIT. The Cult of iPod by Leander Kahney I felt embarrassed holding this book at the COOP, because the cover—a bird?...
...year marked by surprising displays of freshman athleticism, Harvard’s women’s tennis team may be the next in line to boast some headlines thanks to a youthful star. Following last season’s sixth-place Ivy League finish, the Crimson needs a breath of new life to restore the team to its previous dominant streak, when it won four consecutive league titles from...
Prepare to be admitted—not into a theater, but into a mental ward. At tonight’s performance of “The Art Room,” ushers dressed as orderlies will attend the audience, handing out medication in the form of breath mints. Despite its bizarre setting, Billy Aronson’s play is actually a romantic comedy based on a farce by French playwright Georges Feydeau. Renée L. Pastel ’09 directed and Davone J. Tines ’09 and Kelley D. McKinney ’09 produced...
...Twizzlers instead of bubble tea. And then I saw it. Leggings were everywhere. Leggings tucked into boots. Leggings with a dress. Leggings under a gigantic oversized shirt with a silkscreen of Blondie’s face. “What the hell?” I muttered under my breath. “Screw my thesis. I am going to investigate this!” I sat outside, on a bench near Peet’s Coffee, while a white guy in dreadlocks serenaded me with an off-key rendition of “Lover, You Should?...